Far Away for Far Too Long
by mangawolfgirl96
Summary: 15 years ago, a 20 year-old Kyouko disappeared in France. Now, Kuon is in Paris for filming, and discovers both where Kyouko has been for all these years and why she left in the first place. A re-write of Wine Jelly.
1. Prologue

AN

I'm alive! I have come back to you lovely folks and bring with you gifts! Well, by gifts I mean this rewrite of my first and most successful story _Wine Jelly_. While this story will have essentially the same plot, there will be changes to some events and characters as the storyline progresses.

Also, updates will be sporadic and infrequent, but chapter lengths are likely to be about 4k, which is roughly twice the length of the chapters in _Wine Jelly_. This also means that this story will be shorter than _Wine Jelly _as well.

I'd like to dedicate this fic to zenphobiaz, who inspired me to rewrite _Wine Jelly_ when she told me that she couldn't make it four chapters in before she skipped to the end.

Thanks for reading~

MWG

P.S. If any readers were hoping for me to update _Fourth of July Fun_, please see the note on my profile.

* * *

Tsuruga Ren stared at his manager, trying to remember the last time he'd had a check-up. There had to be something wrong with his hearing since it sounded like Yashiro had just said that Kyouko—his Kyouko, love of his life and virtual savior—hadn't been on the plane back from her location shoot in Paris. Which was impossible. His girlfriend was notorious about punctuality and the odds of her missing her flight were exactly zero, if not a negative probability. She wouldn't have missed the plane. Not LME's top actress and number one Love Me girl.

"I'm sorry, Yashiro, but could you repeat that? I misheard you." Ren could hear his voice, and marveled at how calm and collected it sounded.

Instead of repeating it, the bespectacled man held out an unmarked envelope with a small frown. Ren, not knowing what laid within the paper confines nor what else to do, took the letter and cautiously ripped open the top. A single, thrice-folded sheet of paper was inside. He carefully unfolded it and began to read.

_Dear Ren-san  
By the time you are reading this, I will have disappeared._

The actor stared, his brain giving all hope of function after the first line alone. _By the time you are reading this I will have disappeared_: _that_ was how she chose to start a goodbye letter? Not _I'm sorry_ or _I'll come back someday_ or even _I don't think our relationship will work._ He craved to know more, to understand _why_, and forced himself to continue reading, no matter how tight his chest was. Even if it felt like the world was tumbling down around him.

_Please do not worry about me. I have found another source of income  
and adequate housing. Please do not look for me, because you will not find me.  
I thank you for all you've done for me. I hope to meet you again one day, but even so and if not, I hope you find someone who you can love even more._

_Goodbye, Ren._

_Mogami Kyoko_

Kyouko was insane. Really. That was the only reasonable explanation. _Find someone who you can love even more_—in what universe was that even _possible_? There was no one who could compare to his fairy-obsessed, short, odd, naïve, workaholic, forgetful, trusting, princess-loving, beautiful, loving, smart, witty girlfriend.

He refused to even think the prefix _ex_ because, despite the fact that the letter was a goodbye, there was not a single word that said Kyoko no longer wanted to be in a relationship with him, that she'd stopped loving him. It was a tenuous conclusion, barely outside the realm of delusion, but Ren grasped onto it with both hands and refused to let go.

"Thank you, Yashiro," said the actor evenly, carefully refolding the letter and tucking it into his pocket. He ignored the way his hand trembled as it brushed against the small velvet box already there. "Since I have the next few days off, I'll be heading home. Would you like me to drop you off on the way?"

Yashiro's expression was etched with lines of worry and his eyes were narrowed suspiciously, but he declined. "I'll catch a cab or find a bus route back to my apartment, but I will be calling tomorrow," he warned. "And if you don't answer, I will be breaking down your door with the cavalry on my heels."

Ren stretched his mouth into a wide smile and chuckled. "Understood."

After a wave to Yashiro and the other cast and crew wrapping up on set, the long-legged actor slowly made his way to his car. He settled into the silver sports car, staring at his dash blankly. The only sign of passing time was the racing thumping of his heartbeat, each one more painful than the last. His lungs slowly but steadily drew air in and out through force of will alone. His mind had stalled, clicking like an engine refusing to start. Memories—hundreds, if not thousands or millions—clamored for his attention. Some euphoric, some morose and maudlin, but all centering around Kyouko, as if meant to fill the sudden gaping and gushing cavern in his heart. They were dim though, chaotic and fleeting as they warred with each other for his attention and it was too much. Too much too soon, and it would always be too soon, but Ren didn't think of that as he finally turned the key in the ignition.

No, he was thinking of the liquor store just six blocks away from his apartment.

Somewhere in Paris, Mogami Kyouko looked up into the clear blue May sky, wistful and longing to be home but also glad to be gone, away from the lively chaos of Tokyo and acting. It was hard, leaving behind everything familiar, all she had ever loved, but that was all the past, and Kyouko's mind was turned towards the future. In Tokyo, things would've been tabloids, scandals, and heartbreak. But Paris—Paris was hope. A city her image and her popularity had barely touched, and where she could live in anonymity. Maybe not the most welcoming city, or the safest, but a place where she could be, where she could live and harm no one.

Maybe one day, in the far off future when everything was said and done and set in stone, Kyouko would return to Japan, maybe even Tokyo, and maybe it would be a day or a month or a year or forever. But so far in the future, at least eighteen years off, was only a vague idea, and not one Kyouko had much hope for. It would be unbearable agony to go back and walk old streets again with the ghosts of her past walking beside her, taunting her with people she could no longer have in her life.

But Kyouko had more to think about than herself now, and she wouldn't waste time looking back on the past and wishing for things that could never have happened.


	2. Chapter 1

AN

Brief warning for talk of depression, including medicating for depression, as well as a brief mention of alcoholism, both of which will likely be reoccurring throughout the story.

This story probably won't be as blase as _Wine Jelly _on topics such as Yuki getting in fights, Kyouko leaving Japan, and Kuon going a bit off the deep end. There will be consequences to all these actions, and they will be most likely at least mentioned in the story.

Also, although I'm uploading this story now, I will not be taking down _Wine Jelly_. Just to be clear.

(For those of you who don't want to listen to me ramble feel free to skip the rest of this AN. I'll try to make them shorter, if nearly nonexistent, in the future.)

Already, you can see the differences between _Wine Jelly_ and this story in this chapter. My style has changed and matured over time, and my use of profanity has dwindled considerably. Shou won't show up in any of the next few chapters, and perhaps not at all, and the meetings between Kuu and Yuki, Kuon and Yuki, and Kuon and Kyouko have been moved farther into the plot line. The circumstances of the meetings have also changed, as well as Kyouko's reaction to finding out that Tsuruga Ren is actually Hizuri Kuon, though only slightly.

And for anyone who wants to know, the title is from the lyrics of "Far Away" by Nickleback.

This chapter is dedicated to whydoyouwanttoknowmyname, who was something of a friend and mentor to me, and was instrumental in my growth as a writer.

Thanks for reading~

MWG

* * *

_Fifteen years later…_

Tucked into the cityscape of Paris was a small but famous restaurant named Le Goût du Vin, also known as The Taste of Wine. While it was no longer family run—the last descendent of the original owner Fortuné Mignon died some six years ago—the cooking still tasted of home and customers were just as likely to see the owner in the kitchen and as they were waiting on customers. Her employees often had to threaten the woman to take a day off, if rumors were to be believed.

But the food wasn't the only thing the quaint restaurant was known for. Le Goût du Vin was notorious for throwing out reporters and photographers when they weren't there just for a meal, and while that policy made the restaurant popular among celebrities, it wasn't why most females between the age twelve and twenty-five frequented the local five star restaurant. No, it was the handsome junior high student Yuki Mignon, the son of the owner, with his carefully styled brown hair and amber eyes who was often seen helping out at Le Goût du Vin when he wasn't swimming at the local pool, attending school, or at a school competition. The fourteen-almost-fifteen year old even had his own fan site, complete with memorabilia and discussion forums. The half-Japanese teen didn't mind too much, as long as they were willing to police themselves and his things stopped "disappearing." He'd even pose every now and then for a picture and sign autographs, but today wasn't one of those days.

Today, his mother was behaving oddly and no one knew why, not even Jeannette, her sous chef and best friend. Since seven o'clock, just after the restaurant had opened, Kyouko had barricaded herself in the second story of the French restaurant where she, her son, and her sous chef lived. Despite coaxing from her staff, friends, and offspring, the raven-haired woman refused to come out of room.

None of her chefs and wait staff minded that their boss had taken a voluntary day off—they had been trying to get her to take a few days off for over three months—but they were worried. The amber-eyed cook had never done something like this before that they knew off, but most of them had only known Kyouko since she took over Le Goût du Vin and brought in a new staff, but Jeanette had known the thirty-four year old woman for almost fifteen years now and this was the most bewildering of all the things the eccentric woman had down.

After the lunch rush had ended, the employees of Le Goût du Vin had voted for Jeanette to make sure that the head chef ate lunch.

Jeanette trooped up the stairs on the far side of the dining area from the kitchen, paying no mind to Yuki as he followed her. She steeled herself when she reached the landing, and knocked firmly. After a few moments with no reply, she knocked again, and twisted the handle. The door to the apartment swung open, but the foyer was empty. She headed immediately to the master bedroom. She knocked again, and, after no reply yet again, called through the wood, "Kyouko, _s'il vous plaît_, open the door." When no answer came, Jeanette implored, "At least tell us what's wrong."

The other woman replied, "Nothing's wrong. I just want to be in my room, alone, for a while."

"Do you want something to eat? Yuki said you haven't had anything except a glass of orange juice and a banana. That's a good breakfast, but it's past lunch time already. It's not health to skip meals."

Kyouko almost laughed, thinking of all the times she'd been the one saying that or something similar. It served as a bitter reminder of why she had holed herself up in here as well. "Okay. I'll make a sandwich and have some left over salad to go with it." And she'd get it herself, the actress resolved. It wasn't like anyone could actually see her in the apartment above Le Goût du Vin, especially with the curtains drawn in her private kitchen.

Yuki and Jeanette as the master bedroom's door opened and the petite chef exited with a resigned smile. "Yes, yes, you've talked me out. But after I finish eating, I'm going to sit on my couch and read," Kyouko informed them stubbornly

"You haven't been drinking have you, _Maman_?" Yuki asked, following behind her like a tall, looming shadow. "No drugs either, _oui_?"

"Do I look like an idiot to you, Yuki Mignon?"

"_Non madame__,_" he replied, dutifully chastised by his mother's tone alone.

"Smart boy," Kyouko said, ruffling her son's hair. At least he'd gotten her brains. Her amber eyed little boy had gotten straight A's for nine years, but she would still love him even if he got straight C's. He was her baby and nothing would change that, not even if he decided to become a drunken bum. The raven haired woman would try to get him sober and get him to do something around the restaurant but she'd love him all the same.

"So how was school?" she asked, as she turned towards the refridgerator.

Yuki shrugged, picking an apple out of the fruit bowl on the counter beside the refrigerator. "_Bien_. Some kids at school who are in a drama group want me to be the lead in some production."

"Again?"

Kyouko's son didn't like acting as much as she had, but she didn't particularly mind. It was his life and he'd live it how he wanted to. His stubbornness was legendary. It amused her though, that everyone had tried to use his popularity as publicity for their plays, poetry readings, and sport matches.

"Yeah, guess which one."

It probably wasn't _Cinderella_, since they had tried and failed to draft him into playing the prince every other time they'd asked. The same was true for most fairytales and classics, such as _Romeo and Juliet_ and _Auccasin et Nicolette_. While the retired actress could think of several plays, she still wasn't sure which one her son's classmates wanted him to participate in. So she admitted to having no clue as she placed the top on her sandwich and poked around in the fridge for the salad left over from yesterday's dinner. Finding the small plastic container, the woman simply put it on her plate sans lid, and grabbed a fork from her silverware drawer.

"It's not actually a play," Yuki relented, lounging against the refrigerator. "They're basically acting out passages from that best seller by Odaka Akinari. I think you have a copy. _Monsieur_ Mignon gave it to you for your twenty-fifth birthday, _oui_? Its original titled is _Shints__ū__ no Yume_, but everyone calls it by the English title _Heartache Dreams_."

Yuki had said it so conversationally—so blandly, Kyouko didn't realize what he was talking about at first, but she remembered soon enough. She'd read the first chapter of the heartbreaking novel and known immediately Odaka Akinari was a pen name, and as she continued reading she realized that Tsuruga Ren, too, was a stage name before said international superstar revealed it publically that he was actually Hizuri Kuon, two weeks after the French publication entered stores and a week after Kyouko had finished reading it. And that had been the first time since the time she'd left Tokyo that she had thought about going back. Not to resume the life she'd left behind—she wasn't sure she even wanted it anymore—but to see old friends and beat old flames.

However, she had decided against it, after a quick search on the Internet to see if she had faded into obscurity yet. It had surprised Kyouko immensely that she was still so illustrious and had yet to fade in popularity—not even around the edges. Every year it seemed, her fans had organized a search on May 2nd and flew to Paris to look for their missing idol. It made Kyouko feel guilty, but there wasn't anything she could do without putting those she cared about in danger, something she absolutely refused to do.

Shaking loose miseries of the past and present, the chef tried to focus on what her boy had said. First of all, Yuki never said who or what he would play if he even participated—though Kyouko would've laid her bets on the protagonist Ochiai Kyo. While her little angel had never acted a day in his life, they always tried to get him to play lead roles. It was his face mostly, she wasn't ashamed to admit as it was one of his father's more redeeming qualities as of late, but he also had that sort of aura about him too. Her little heartbreaker was a natural born leader, utterly captivating in his charisma, no doubt about it.

After a moment of thought, Kyouko managed to say causally, "That should be interesting. Are you going to do it this time or are you going to refuse like all the others?"

The teenager shrugged again, contemplating his partially eaten apple. "Maybe."

"Either way, be good and stay out of trouble. I don't want another call from your principal about a fight. Understand, young man?" asked Kyouko sternly, giving him her best authoritative stare.

According to Yuki, the fight hadn't been his fault. The other junior high senior had tried to blindside him and punching him in the solar plexus had been merely reflex. Kyouko didn't believe the second part for one second, and blamed herself for teaching him martial arts. He'd seen her sparring with some guys at the local gym years ago and insisted she teach him how to do things like a roundhouse kick and judo throws. The black haired boy had been seven and the cutest thing on God's green planet. Who could say no to puppy-dog eyes from someone like that?

"Yes, Mom," Yuki muttered, resigned to the fact that she was going to bring it up every time he so much as thought of stepping foot outside the restaurant. They both knew that Yuki was smart enough not to even _think_ of committing an act of violence in Le Goût du Vin.

Kyouko slung her arm over his broad shoulders and pulled him down to her height to place a kiss on his forehead. She was five-three and on the petite side where he was already five-eight and still growing. That boy had gotten so much from his father that it was painful sometimes to look at her boy and see the man she loved instead. Sometimes though, it made her swell with pride that she'd done as good a job as her pseudo-parents had with their son. (If not, perhaps, just a smidgen better.)

She missed Julie and Kuu, even if they both visited off and on, but never together, and not for long periods. Day trips only, and the actress made sure they never met Yuki, and Yuki never met them. While he didn't ask about his grandparents—especially since Kyouko had let him believe Mignon-san had been his grandfather when he was truly only a benefactor and confidant—Kyouko knew he wondered about them and his father and the excuse of "he died before you were born" wouldn't hold up much longer. She would have to tell the truth eventually, no matter what the backlash would be. No matter how difficult and painful it would be to cast a glance backwards and admit her mistakes.

Using the opportunity of Yuki defenseless and bent, Kyouko grabbed him in a headlock and ruffled his hair ruthlessly, like she'd done since he'd been able to sass her when she tried to get him to clean up his room, or put his clothes away. It was moments like these they got her through the bad days, and helped her find the good ones.

"Mom!"

The actress just grinned at him as she retreated to the living room with her lunch and settled into the nook between the left arm of the old, flowery couch and its back. It was the best place in the small room to curl up with a book as the couch was right next to a small, hand-carved table that held two drawers, and a small reading lamp placed on the top. Most of Kyouko's books and movies were stashed in the drawers since it had seemed wasteful to buy a media rack when every fit in the table that Mignon-san had left to her when he died.

Jacques Mignon had been a savior to the homeless, jobless nineteen year old who had come to his restaurant for a meal and left with a job and a place to stay. He'd even come to the hospital after she went into labor with flowers and a smile of a man whose grandson had just been born. Mignon-san never had childrens and his wife Maria had passed two years before Kyouko had come to Paris, but he'd come to think of Kyouko and her son as his family. He'd passed away on a cold February day, a few days after he'd slipped into a coma caused by a stroke. Both Yuki and his mother had both been standing vigil that night, and had wept huddled together long into the night.

It still brought tears to her eyes just think about it, and if Yuki saw, he'd worry and he had worried enough today as it was with Kyouko shutting herself in her room and now in the apartment. A necessary precaution, and everyone in the restaurant was always saying she needed a few vacation days every once in a while. They wouldn't mind her taking three and a half weeks off when Yuki's summer break was just a few days away. It had been a while since they'd spent any real family time together. Sure, the chef made it to every swim meet her fish-out-of-water went to, every parent-teacher conference, and all that. But they hadn't had any time just the two of them since they'd grieved for Mignon-san six years ago. Kyouko had thrown herself into the restaurant, and the first few months had been rough as she hired an entirely new staff, several of which had to be replaced within a few weeks of their employment because they hadn't been able to match Kyouko's level of expectations or had treated Yuki unfairly.

If Kyouko worked up the nerve to leave the house during her vacation, she'd see about taking Yuki to the beach, or maybe taking him hiking somewhere. Maybe they would just spend a whole day at an amusement park. It had been years since either of them had been to one, and the teenager barely remembered the last time when Mignon-san had taken them to the amusement park of Yuki's third birthday. It'd been cold, seeing as he had been born in January, but it had been the best present he'd ever gotten. The present she'd gotten him this year though, well, Kyouko hoped he'd like it even more.

Hizuri Kuon—formerly known as Tsuruga Ren and widely known under the pen name Odaka Akinari—let out a tortured sigh as his costar and father Hizuri Kuu began listing off restaurants they could visit for lunch. He tried to seem attentive, but his interest in food was rather lacking. He barely ate enough to maintain his current weight, and that was after he'd lost almost twenty pounds to depression fifteen years ago. They'd gotten him medicated soon after Yashiro had noticed the signs, but it only helped slightly, especially since his name had been in the press more often than not in the past decade, and none of it particularly good. All his childhood mistakes were out in the open, and while most of his fans and coworkers believed him to be more like Tsuruga Ren than he had during those far off childhood years, many still found him intimidating and frightening, even dangerous.

"…So, Kuon, which one do you want to go to?" his father asked, drawing said actor away from his dark musings.

Remembering only one name, the younger actor picked Le Goût du Vin and told his father to punch it into the GPS. When Kuu remained silent and made no move for the GPS, Kuon turned and looked at him. "Something wrong, Tou-san?"

"No, no, of course not," Kuu reassured immediately, shaking his head to clear it. The veteran actor typed the name in, and then lapsed into silence while his son took the opportunity to see the location of where they would be eating. Le Goût du Vin had an admittedly nice ring to it, sounding old, pricy, and private. The kind of restaurant he usually visited, and, according to the GPS, it had been family run since the late eighteen hundreds. It had been a long time since he'd been to a family owned restaurant, and never one in Paris.

By following the handy GPS—Kuon had ignored his father who had insisted they wouldn't need it at the rental car dealer. He'd shut up finally after they had almost gotten lost twice in all the twist and turns and back alleys—it took only ten minutes to reach the restaurant from the main road. The parking lot was full, even two hours after the lunch rush, so they parked on the street and walked a block or two to the restaurant, hat and sun glasses their only disguise. They had to nearly sprint through the front doors when Kuon lost his hat. It was strange, though, that once they entered Le Goût du Vin, the rabid fans didn't follow, just gazed wistfully at their backs as they were seated. It seemed their privacy policy wasn't a secret, and whatever the consequence was, it was enough to deter even the most determined of fans. The head chef must've been more legendary than Kuon had thought.

While he mused, Kuu had gotten them a booth tucked in a moderately lit corner, and ordered some wine to go with their meal. That actually surprised Kuon, especially since the last time he'd had a drink—seven weeks ago which was a new record—he'd been in the bottle, and hadn't been sober for a while before that. Maybe his father's memory was slipping like people said it was, and he had forgotten Kuon wasn't supposed to have any more alcohol, just in case it worsened his depression or interfered with his medication. His doctor had tried, succeeded, and then failed, and had eventually given up trying to get Kuon completely sober. His mother Julie had been the cause this time around with a very public threat to disown him if he didn't clean himself up. The blonde man had tried and so far he'd gotten his career smoothed out a bit and his family ties stronger than they had in the past fifteen years, but his personal life was still in shambles, which the press absolutely loved to tell the whole world about. He'd only been jailed twice since she-who-he-refused-to-name had left—both for assaulting members of the press, but those cases were always thrown out—but the press mongers always loved to embellish the incidents and reprint the articles.

The Hizuri wasn't proud of what his life had become, but he wasn't going to dwell on it either so he turned his attention to the brown eyed man who watched him over a leather-bound menu.

"What?" Kuon snapped irately.

"Nothing," the older man said quickly, peering down at his menu. "Nothing."

Kuon didn't believe that for a moment, but let it go. For the first time in years, it was just the two of them. No secrets, no masks, no cameras. Just them. In their business, that was nothing short of a miracle and he'd be damned if he was going to ruin it. He needed some good back in his life, since the best thing that had happened to him had up and walked away. So he opened his menu and looked over the famed Le Goût du Vin's selection. At least until his father decided to kill himself by choking on his wine. Kuon set his menu to the side and leaned over the table to thump Kuu on the back.

After the older man had started breathing regularly again, Kuon shook his head, commenting, "I'd thought by this time you would've learned not to breathe _and_ drink at the same time."

"Look at the top left side of a page," Kuu retorted.

Rolling his eyes, Kuon did and then stared incredulously at the quantities listed above the prices. It he wasn't mistaken, his name was being used for the smallest quantity provided and his father's for the largest. What in the world…?

"If I didn't know any better," he said finally, after a stretch of silence, "I might've believed this is some prank and we're being filmed right now."

"Amen," Kuu muttered into his wine.

"Maybe we're in the Twilight Zone…"

Kuu just looked at his son.

"I was joking," Kuon explained dryly.

Kuu looked unconvinced as he continued perusing his menu. "Sure, son. Sure."

"You're never going to let me live this down are you?" asked the younger actor resignedly.

"Not in this lifetime."

Kuon had thought as much and was about to complain when a waitress appeared at his elbow, smiling brightly. "_Bienvenue à nouveau_, _Monsieur _Hizuri, and who is your cute friend?" She graced the younger blonde with a flirty smile.

"Jeannette," his father said, sounding amused, "I'd like you to meet my son Kuon. Kuon, this is the sous chef of Le Goût du Vin and the best friend of the owner, Jeannette Lereau."

"A pleasure." Kuon held out his hand and the woman shook it briskly with a slightly strained smile. It wasn't the usual reaction he garnered from women, but he'd met more than a few who had a similar response—they'd just known who he was on sight and didn't bother to shake his hand.

"So you're the famous Hizuri son," the blue eyed woman managed to say after an awkward moment of silence. "I've heard a lot about you. Voted seven years straight as the Most Desirable Man in Japan, right?"

"_Oui_, _mademoiselle_."

The shorter blonde smiled, and looked at Kuu. "So you've taught him French, but does he know what to do with it?"

"Truthfully, Jeannette? I'd say _non_."

They both looked at him pityingly, which only added to his bewilderment. Just what the hell did you use French for besides speaking? He asked as much and got head shakes from them both, which only served to alarm Kuon,

His father conspiring with people who were, to Kuon at least, virtual strangers never ended well for anyone involved, especially his son. Kuon just hoped it wasn't connected to some scheme that was supposed to cheer him up.

Those tended to end in even worse disaster.


End file.
